Feather Soft
by TheyCallMeGoose
Summary: Whilst travelling along the Wounded Coast, something unexpected is revealed about everyone's favourite broody elf. Drabble-length oneshot absolutely brimming with fluff and sweetness. Side effects may include rainbow coloured glittery vomiting and an inability to function.


_Hello all! I've recently decided to rework all the oneshots I've posted (my old followers should check out my updated profile... and not kill me please?), and this is the new and improved Feather Soft.  
><em>_There's not a great many changes - a different tense and typo corrections mostly_, though there may still be some mistakes - apologies if there are_. It needed doing however, and now that it's done I can focus on other projects. :P  
><em>_(Yes, before you ask, I've copied this message into all my updated oneshots.)_

_So for new readers, enjoy! and for those who have read this before, enjoy it again if you wish. :D_

-x-

With a rapid snap of her wrist a shard of razor sharp ice arcs through the air to bury itself in the throat of the last bandit blocking their path, splashing blood down the man's broad chest. Releasing a heavy sigh of exhaustion and running the back of her hand across her sweat soaked brow, Marian steps towards the corpse and roots through his pockets, hunting for gold or poultices. Satisfied that she's found all the coin the bandit had on him, she turns with a tired yet satisfied smile to her faithful companions, leaning heavily on her staff. "Shall we move on?"

"Maker, Hawke," Varric exclaims with his usual chuckle. "Feeling extra violent today, are we? Those poor bastards barely had time to cry for their mothers."

Her smile pulls down into a weary grimace at the humour of his words, but before she can open her mouth to respond with harmless sarcasm the group's healer interrupts with his own opinions. "He's got a point, Hawke, you looked terrifying. If I didn't know any better I'd have said you were possessed by demons. Are you feeling okay? You haven't argued with Leandra again, have you?"

_Typical Anders, ever the fusser..._Another sigh escapes her lips, though this time of impatience. Of course they're right, the perceptive bastards. Something has definitely worked its way under her skin and that something is standing only a few feet away, glowing faintly and watching the sea in a futile attempt to hide his eavesdropping. Only three nights ago after they killed Hadriana, Fenris had come to her estate in the late hours of the night, practically begging her for forgiveness. She granted it and so much more - comfort, trust, and a night of unimaginable passion. Despite his affectionate touch and tender words he still left her that night, lost in an internal maze of heartbreak and betrayal, and she did what any woman would when feeling so scared and vulnerable – melted down her anguish and forged it into anger.

"Anders, stop your clucking. I'm perfectly fine." she replies with as much decorum as she can muster, earning a hearty laugh from the dwarf. "I just didn't sleep all that well."

She lets the mage worry over her a little more before insisting they press on - the Wounded Coast is hardly the best place in the Free Marches to stand around chatting. After a few more easy and utterly predictable fights with some inexperienced raiders, Marian feels more than ready to call an end to their endless trek, which was only intended to be a quick hunt for fresh elfroot, when a choked cry from behind them halts her in her tracks.

She wheels around sharply, mana pooling in her palms as she shifts her stance into a defensive battle posture. It takes a few moments for her to fully register the peculiar scene playing out before her. Near the roots of a thin and wind-beaten tree Fenris kneels in the sand, cradling a small and extremely delicate feather of identical colouring to his hair like it's the most precious thing in the world to him. His apple green eyes glisten with barely concealed joy, and her jaw almost drops at the sight of such a happy expression on the elf's face.

"Hey, Broody?" Varric begins carefully, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "The feather is very pretty, but you may want to put it down before you start glowing from something other than pent-up aggression."

Ignoring the dwarf Marian steps towards the transfixed warrior slowly, sensing that there's something highly important and meaningful running through his mind. As she crouches beside him he carefully plucks the feather from his palm with his free hand, staring at it with something akin to awe. It's only then that she notices the red ribbon tied haphazardly around his gauntlet. She recognises it instantly – it's the exact same ribbon that she's been using as a bookmark in their reading lesson. The realisation that Fenris cares enough about her to wear something of hers so boldly brings a smile to her lips, the brightest smile she's worn in months, and she struggles to reel her ecstasy in as he begins to speak.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? It must've come from an owl or a hawk..." He paused to smile, his eyes flicking to hers for a second, and for once no traces of negative emotion mar the gesture. Turning his arm over to reveal the ever-exposed flesh, he begins to trail the feather along the faintly shining swirls of his lyrium markings. "I've always liked feathers. They are one of the only things in this world that don't hurt to touch. I even have them lining my armour..."

Someone snickers rudely behind then, likely Anders, causing the elf to stand abruptly. Furious mortification darkens his skin and without another word her turns and storms away, dropping the feather in his embarrassed haste. He was so lost in thought and emotion, he probably forgot that the others could hear him just as clearly as she could. She shoots Anders a disappointed glare as he and Varric turn to follow the disgruntled elf, but her attention is already back on the tiny feather lying on the sand.

_Well, he is wearing something to remind him of me…_

Biting her lip she bends to retrieve the discarded feather, handling it with utmost care. It feels so delicate in her hand, but so very soft - she can see why Fenris enjoys the feel of it on his ever-painful skin. Without hesitation she lifts it up to her head and painstakingly braids it into her short black hair. Patting it down so it rests comfortably and securely against her locks, she hurries forward to catch up with her friends. Of course she pretends not to notice when Fenris' eyes widen at the sight of it. He grins with such glee it renders her completely breathless, and she has to wait for him to turn away again before she can copy the gesture.


End file.
